


Solid

by LightRain_09 (nihilistic_trout)



Category: RWBY
Genre: Fair Game (RWBY), Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of alcoholism, Nightmares, Not Canon Compliant, Qrow has insomnia, Volume 7 (RWBY), clover has a migraine, light innuendo, some withdrawal symptoms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:28:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26163391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nihilistic_trout/pseuds/LightRain_09
Summary: After the party at Schnee manor, Clover is plagued with a migraine. Restless and suffering from insomnia, Qrow helps him through it.
Relationships: Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi
Comments: 15
Kudos: 77





	Solid

**Author's Note:**

> This is a scenario that popped into my head way the hell back in December (or whenever the episodes were airing) when we had no idea what the Schnee dinner party was going to be like and the world was a simpler place. Finally getting it out of my WIP folder. Hope y'all enjoy it! 
> 
> Beta-read by the amazing [ProtoChan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProtoChan) ([theonceoverthinker](https://theonceoverthinker.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr). Can't thank her enough for being so patient with my dumb-ass writing process.

Qrow always had trouble staying awake in cars and the fancy limo driving them back to Atlas Academy was no exception to that rule. The steady hum of tires on smooth pavement reverberated up through his bones, making him feel weightless and relaxed. He tried to remain alert, to focus on the quiet, subdued conversation going on between Ruby, Yang, and their teammates, but their voices were pitched a little too low for him to make out much.

He had gotten the impression on the way to Schnee manor that they had some scheme cooked up between them. It was one of the reasons he had taken himself out of the equation at the party. Whatever they had gotten up to, he probably wouldn’t have stopped them, but plausible deniability was never a bad thing to have on his side, especially with James and Winter lurking around.

The car turned a corner and pressed him farther into the leather seat. He didn’t fight the inertia and his head lolled to one side, coming to rest against the chilled glass of the window. It was all notably different from the military transports and country trucks he was used to. Those jounced and rattled his body, offering a different type of comfort through distraction. This damn thing was basically an invitation to go into a coma for the next year.

A sharp jab to his side had him jolting upright. He opened his eyes to see Ruby perched on the edge of the seat next to him, a small smirk playing around her mouth. He hadn’t even registered that she had moved. Once, that would have annoyed him, bruised his ego a little. Now, it made him proud. She was getting better.

“We’re almost back,” she said.

Qrow shook his head to clear it and sat up, stifling a yawn against the back of his hand. “Thanks, kiddo.”

A part of him mourned the loss of the sleep, even if it would only have been for a few minutes. Maybe he could convince James to have his drivers give him a ride around the city later. A few hours should do it. He could call it recon or patrol or refamiliarizing himself with the city, or whatever.

Or he could just tell James the damn truth, that the only way he had been able to sleep lately was by pushing his body and mind so far beyond the point of exhaustion that sometimes he couldn’t recall the walk back to his apartment from the training rooms. Tonight hadn’t been nearly enough to achieve anything close to that. Mentally, he was exhausted. Physically, his body felt wired.

Ruby scooted closer. She leaned against his side and rested her head on his shoulder, draping an arm loosely through his.

“Long night?” she asked.

Qrow rolled his shoulder against the stiffness in his neck and shot her a smirk. “You know me. Parties aren’t my thing.”

She craned her neck and turned her face towards him. He half expected a smile or some teasing remark about his sleeping habits, or maybe even a bit of bragging about the success of her own evening. Instead, worry sifted through the shadows on her face. For a brief moment, she looked exactly like Summer had before she had disappeared, haunted and impossibly burdened.

Gods he hated himself for what he had done to her over the past several months. To all of them. He should have been the point of stability on their journey to Atlas. Instead, he had fallen apart and left them to drag his useless, broken pieces along behind them as if they hadn’t been dealing with enough already. The part of his mind that enjoyed torturing him came alive at the reminder. Old, stale voices rustled through the back of his head, their whispers cold and familiar:  _ weak, pathetic waste _ . 

Qrow clenched his jaw. No. He wasn’t going to indulge those voices tonight. Not if he could help it. 

He wrapped his arm around Ruby and held her close. “Want to talk?”

“Hm?” she blinked up at him as if surprised at the question, then nodded and snuggled against his side. “I always want to talk with you, Uncle Qrow.”

“Was your mission a success?” 

Ruby’s eyes widened a little and he laughed.

“We did ride together on the way there,” he said.

“Well, yeah but… I thought you were asleep?”

“Dozing,” he corrected. “And you weren’t exactly quiet.”

Ruby rolled her eyes and settled her head on his shoulder again. “Spy.”

He grunted in wry amusement. She didn’t know half of it. 

“So?” he asked.

Ruby let out a long breath and cast a glance at the others: Yang slumped over with her head on Blake’s shoulder, Weiss staring absently out the window with that perpetual pout at the corners of her mouth, and Jaune’s team strewn across the seats towards the front. All of them were uncharacteristically quiet; whatever nerve-driven energy they had possessed before the party had been drained out of them.

“I think we got something,” she said slowly. “But I don’t know what yet.”

Qrow raised an eyebrow. “Is it something you think you should share?”

Ruby pursed her lips, thoughtful for a few moments. Finally, she nodded. “I think we should take it to General Ironwood in the morning.”

“Do you want me to be there?” 

Ruby looked at him again. She grinned and some of her old spark broke through the exhaustion. “I always want you to be there.”

Qrow smiled and gave her a gentle squeeze. “You got it, kiddo.”

“Thanks, Uncle Qrow.”

He felt her sigh more than he heard it and her body grew heavy. For a moment, she looked utterly relaxed, eyes drifting closed, cheek smushed up against his shoulder. But Qrow knew better. He knew what it was to carry a weight for so long that you started to forget who you were without it. In that moment, she let everything that worried her rest on him, and he took it, ignoring the biting fear, the panic, and the bone-deep certainty that even that small thing would be enough to break him. The moment passed and he drew in a sharp breath that he hoped she didn’t notice as she straightened up away from him, determined and strong. She glanced at him and he grinned, an expression that felt familiar, if not entirely genuine. 

“Get some sleep tonight, old man,” she said, jabbing him in the ribs.

Qrow grimaced dramatically and feigned passing out against the door, dropping his jaw and letting his tongue poke out for good measure. Ruby giggled. He felt her weight lift from the seat but didn’t register what she was doing until she pressed a kiss to his cheek. He opened his eyes, surprised, but she was already moving back to sit next to Weiss. Qrow folded his arms over his chest and leaned back in the seat and watched them. He didn’t drift off again.

The lights from Atlas Academy washed in through the tinted windows when the car pulled up in the drive. Qrow waited for it to roll to a halt, gravel crunching beneath the tires, and then he opened the door and climbed out. The cold night air snapped in around him and light icy rain pricked at his skin. Right on cue, itching restlessness settled back into his fingers and arms, and coiled into a tight knot behind his lungs. It was some side-effect of sobriety that he hadn’t quite worked out how to deal with yet, just one more reason that sleep had been an evasive pain in the ass lately. He pushed his hands back through his hair and focused on at least keeping it contained in his arms and chest. So much for sleeping. Gods, he needed a distraction.  _ Now. _

Maybe he could go over Clover’s files on the murders in Mantle again. Tyrian was behind it-- they knew that much now-- but if he could pin down some pattern in location or time, it might give them enough of an edge to predict his next move. It was a long shot, but if he was going to be up all night anyway, he might as well do something useful.

The kids piled out of the car behind him and bolted for the front entrance to avoid the rain. Jaune came last, mouth cracked in a wide yawn, eyes heavy. He mumbled something to Qrow as he struggled out of the car that sounded vaguely like ‘should have seen the flying food _ ’  _ before he staggered off after the others. Qrow stared after him and then shook his head. Nope. Wasn’t going to ask. 

With a small smile, he swung the car door shut, leaned back against it, and waited. If he knew Atlas and James at all, and he  _ did _ , he was probably going to need Clover to grant him some special access to the files on the investigation. Granted, given a few hours alone, enough coffee, and the right level of spiteful determination, he might have been able to figure out his way into the system without the good Captain’s help. He hadn’t been Oz’s spy for nothing, after all. But for the first time in a long time, he was trying to play nice. Seemed to be working so far.

On the other side of James’s personal vehicle, Harriet, Vine, and Elm lingered outside their car, looking annoyed, bored, and tired in turn. Marrow was bent over, presumably speaking to the only person who would still be in the backseat. After a moment, he straightened and turned to his companions with a shrug, and the four of them headed into the academy, filing in behind Winter and James, who had their heads together, postures rigid, speaking in low, rapid tones. One by one, they all disappeared through the tall glass doors, leaving Qrow standing alone out in the dark and drizzling rain.

Well. Almost alone.

He let out a long breath. It crystallized in the air in front of him and drifted up towards the overcast night sky. He should go in. The rational part of him knew that. If Clover had stayed behind, he probably had a good reason for wanting to be alone, and if he wanted to be alone, that shot Qrow’s short-lived plans to hell. Maybe he could take a bath and calm his body long enough to at least catch a nap. Barring that, he was going to have to figure out how to get through the night without that restlessness turning into an outright craving, and then through the morning without passing out during the regularly scheduled briefing. He needed to sleep. He needed to stay sober. He needed to be able to function, somehow.

What he did _not_ need to do, more than anything, was walk over to that limo and encourage… whatever the hell had been going on for the past several weeks between himself and Clover. It was something he had briefly let himself forget tonight. Flirting back a little was one thing, but it was another thing entirely to go seeking Clover out in the back of a dark car with no one else around.

Qrow squeezed his eyes shut and tilted his head back so that the icy rain fell on his face. He reached for the voice in his head, the one that sounded hilariously like Tai, which had been chanting the same thing at him since Clover had nearly bowled him over with little more than a wink and a smirk: Not a good idea. Not at all a good idea. Really fucking  _ bad  _ idea. 

Unfortunately, psychic Tai was about as effective at talking Qrow out of stupid shit as the real Tai had ever been.

“Gods damn it all to hell,” he muttered.

He pushed away from the limo with a huff and crossed the distance in a few long strides. The engine of Clover’s car still rumbled softly, the driver apparently content to wait however long he needed to for his last passenger to get out. Qrow reached it and, with one final shake of his head at his own idiocy, he ducked to peer inside.

Clover lay sprawled across the leather bench of the long side-seat, one arm flung over his eyes, long legs stretched out as far as they could go. His mouth was pressed into a thin, miserable line, so different from the cocky charm he wore like a damn coat. Okay, maybe not a coat. Did the guy even know what a jacket was?

_ Last chance,  _ he told himself.  _ Just go inside, Branwen. Turn around and walk away. You’ve been doing it your whole life, why is it so damn hard now? _

Good question.

“Knock, knock,” he said.

Clover stiffened. He lifted his arm enough to crack one eye open and peered at him for a second. A strange half-smile tugged at one corner of his mouth and then he gently let his arm fall back into place. “Please don’t knock.”

Ah. So that was the problem.

“Migraine?” Qrow asked, leaning his shoulder against the side of the car.

Clover twitched his fingers at him in what might have been a finger-gun confirmation under better circumstances. Qrow resisted the urge to tease; he’d get Clover for it later. There would be more than one opportunity, he was sure.

“Is it bad?” he asked.

Clover answered carefully and with minimal movement as if every word caused him pain. “I feel like my eyeball is getting crushed by my cheekbone.”

Qrow bit at his lip. He could still leave. Tell him he hoped he felt better and  _ go inside _ . Even at his best, he had never been great at this, and he was a fucking disaster at the moment. It wouldn’t be fair to either of them. What the hell was he doing?

Fuck if he knew.

He climbed into the car and shut the door softly behind him, moving awkwardly down the aisle. When he reached Clover, he tapped him once on the shoulder.

“Up,” he said.

Clover winced and clenched his teeth. Qrow half expected some sort of resistance or at least a question. But Clover didn’t say anything. Instead, he forced himself into a half-seated position long enough for Qrow to slide into the seat behind him. Another light touch on his shoulder and Clover gingerly eased himself back to rest his head in Qrow’s lap, a short, pained breath escaping through his teeth.

“Mind if I try something?” Qrow asked, pitching his voice low.

Clover moved his arm down to rest across his stomach. “Please do.”

With a steadying breath out, Qrow pushed his fingers through Clover’s hair, careful to keep the pressure light and the friction to a minimum. He smoothed his fingertips across his scalp and then down the side of his neck, searching for the areas of tension: his jaw, his neck, his shoulders. On instinct, he moved his hand up and passed his fingers across Clover’s forehead. Yep. Tension there, too. He found the pressure points on either side of the bridge of Clover’s nose and carefully pushed, testing. Clover’s brow furrowed but he let out a careful breath and didn’t protest, so Qrow applied a little more pressure and rubbed small circles, working out over his eyebrows to his temples and then back again.

“Where is it?” he asked after a moment.

Clover gestured at the entire right side of his head.

Qrow snorted softly. “That’s helpful.”

Clover’s lips quirked. He sighed and tapped a finger to a spot behind his ear and another just above his right eye. Qrow shifted his focus there, tracing the lines of stress outward, gently pressing into the knotted muscles at the base of his skull. It was an easy rhythm to fall into, relatively speaking. He and Raven had never been overly affectionate, even at their closest, but he used to be the only one she would let near her when she was in the middle of a migraine. He had learned quickly how to help her through them, what worked, and what made it worse.

Of course, Clover wasn’t Raven, and Qrow was acutely aware of that on every possible level. That was why he tried very, very hard not to think about it, or the fact that his skin felt static-charged from the contact. He didn’t think about anything except trying to alleviate the pain.

After several long minutes, Clover’s body relaxed slightly, the weight of his head and shoulders sinking down into Qrow’s thighs.

“I take it things didn’t go well tonight,” Qrow said, keeping his voice soft.

“It could have gone better,” Clover said with a small frown. “But I can’t completely blame Schnee for this. It’s been edging in since yesterday.”

“You sure about that? I’ve heard he’s a dick. Maybe he has a long range.”

Clover laughed but the sound dissolved into a sort of whine and his features twisted into a grimace. “Ow. Do me a favor and don’t be funny right now.”

“Sorry. Wasn’t intentional.”

“You’re so naturally hilarious you can’t help yourself?”

“I’m accidentally amusing,” Qrow said. “There’s a difference.”

Clover gave him a strained smile and the barest shake of his head. “I don’t think anything about you is accidental.”

Qrow’s hands faltered. Gods, what the hell was he supposed to do with  _ that _ ? He wasn’t stupid, though honestly, he probably wouldn’t have missed it even if he had been. Clover was a lot of things; subtle wasn’t one of them.

It wasn’t as if Qrow was a stranger to that sort of interest. Most of his covert missions for Oz had involved it: spotting it, exploiting it, giving in to it, and then putting it away. But with Clover, it somehow felt like… more. It was more than a base attraction, more than a night. And it scared the shit out of Qrow. The last few weeks had left him feeling worked over and vulnerable in a way he hadn’t been in a very long time, which made this dangerous for him. For them both, actually.

He picked back up on his motions and tried to let the easy, simple repetition of it ease his thoughts. When Clover’s jaw relaxed and the furrow in his brow smoothed out, he cleared his throat.

“How did James do?” he asked. It wasn’t an overly skillful redirection, but thankfully Clover didn’t seem interested in pushing him tonight, or ever if he really thought about it.

“The General is… resolved. Tonight didn’t end on the best of terms, but he took it in stride.”

Qrow didn’t answer. When the silence stretched, Clover opened his eyes for the first time, just a little, and peered up at him.

“You don’t agree,” Clover said. It wasn’t a question.

Qrow shrugged. “Does it matter?”

“I think so. I’d like to know what you think.”

“You might regret asking.”

Clover lifted one shoulder in a small shrug. “Tell me anyway?”

Qrow sighed and let his hands drift back down to Clover’s shoulders, and kneaded at the knots he could reach. He still hadn’t really decided where he stood on James’s whole plan for Salem, particularly since they had yet to share what they had learned about her from Jinn, much less what they had learned about Oz. But if the last year had taught him anything, it was that he didn’t know nearly as much as he had believed at one point. For all he knew, James had landed on something that Oz had never been able to see. Maybe telling the world about Salem  _ was  _ the right move. And yet, their war with Salem wasn’t the only thing at stake here.

“I’ve known James for a long time,” he finally said. “He’s always been susceptible to a… certain kind of tunnel vision. Had it with Ozpin, with Beacon, with the Vytal Festival. Always thought he knew better and didn’t hesitate to act on it. Hell, maybe sometimes he was right, but now… I don’t see how any of this ends well.”

“Are you worried about his methods?”

“I’m worried about  _ him _ . That tunnel vision almost crushed him when Beacon fell. Not sure he’ll be able to get out before it collapses this time.”

Clover’s brow furrowed and he winced when Qrow dug into a particularly hard knot at the base of his neck.

Qrow quickly moved one hand up to smooth fingers over his forehead. “Sorry. Shouldn’t have said anything.”

“I asked,” Clover said, and then offered him a tired, half-smile. “I’m glad you told me.”

Qrow made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat. Had that answer come from anyone else, he would have called them on their bullshit, but he had seen the difference between diplomatic Clover lying his ass off to mitigate a situation and what Qrow thought -- hoped -- was the man behind all that military formality. So far, there were only hints here and there, wisps of truth poking through cracks in the façade in those rare moments when Clover thought he wasn’t being watched, or when they were alone and maybe he forgot, for a few beautiful seconds, to be the perfect soldier. Which was maybe what prompted Qrow to push on that line a little harder.

“Can I ask you something?”

Clover stirred -- he had been drifting again -- and his eyes fluttered open. “Sure.”

Qrow focused on the soft strands of hair sliding between his fingers and kept his voice even and carefully neutral. “What would you do if he went too far?”

Clover’s mouth pressed into a hard line and his gaze slipped away. Thin shadows from the raindrops gathered on the windows fell across his features and made his expression difficult to read. Qrow didn’t push him, but he stayed silent for so long that Qrow began to think he probably wasn’t going to answer, and maybe those glimpses had been a trick of the light after all. A sharp, needling ache unfurled in his chest at the thought and for the first time, Qrow realized that he had been lying to himself for a while now. It was no longer a matter of stopping whatever this was between them; it was simply a matter of getting through it in one piece.

“I don’t know how to answer that,” Clover said at last. His voice was soft. Troubled. “I’m military, Qrow. Our structure is built entirely on trust, upward and downward. If I start questioning a superior officer, everything falls apart. I have to trust him. I _do_ trust him.”

“You know, there’s a dangerous side to trust that no one tells you about,” Qrow said, his frown deepening. “Too much of it, and whoever you’re throwing it at goes from being human to an idol. Believe me, that sort of blind devotion can screw you over a hell of a lot more than losing some structural integrity.”

“Are you speaking from personal experience?” There was nothing accusatory in Clover’s tone, just simple curiosity. 

Qrow shrugged. “I just know that even the people we look up to can make stupid mistakes, and ignoring that fact is a bad call. I’m not trying to imply anything here, I just don’t want to see you get...” he barely caught himself, choking off the words that felt too intimate, too close. Too real. He swallowed and tried for something safer. “I think you should consider the possibility that all of this is getting to him more than you think it is, and that he might make some… bad decisions because of it. You should know where you stand if it comes to that.” 

Clover frowned up at him, sharp teal eyes flitting across his face as if he were searching for something. After a long, pinched moment, he tilted his chin down in a fraction of a nod.

Qrow let out a quiet breath. The air shifted a bit between them and some invisible snarl that Qrow hadn’t even fully been aware of unraveled. For the first time, he realized that he wasn’t massaging the muscles in Clover’s neck anymore so much as he was tracing patterns across his skin. 

He should have stopped.

He didn’t.

“Can I ask you something now?” Clover spoke slowly, not hesitant but cautious as if he were feeling his way through a dark room he had never been in before.

Qrow nodded.

“Why haven’t you said anything to him?”

Qrow let out a careful breath and rolled his shoulders. “A year ago, I would have been in his face about it already, but he’s on a ledge right now. I’d rather try to pull him back than push him off. I’m the worst person to do it but… I’m the only one left. Just wish I knew how to reach him.”

“I’m sure he’s more than willing to listen to you. You’ve known each other for a long time and he seems to trust you.”

Qrow shook his head. “We’ve never gotten along very well. I’m not sure where this peace between us came from, but I wouldn’t count on it holding up against a stiff breeze.” He looked down at Clover thoughtfully. “You have tact. Any suggestions?”

Clover’s eyes widened a fraction. “Why are you asking me?”

Qrow shrugged. “Why not? You’re good with people. Guess you have to be since you’re a… what exactly are you again?”

“A captain?”

“Yeah, that.”

Clover breathed out a short, wry laugh. “Okay, then. I suppose, if I were approaching one of my teammates about something potentially sensitive, I’d take it one thing at a time. Don’t try to reach him all at once. Find the closest point of common ground and go from there.” 

The words were said evenly enough, without inflection or much weight. But something flashed across Clover’s features, something hard and serious. Something…  _ him. _

Qrow raised an eyebrow. “You’re comfortable with that?”

“If it were me doing it? No. But you’re not a soldier, Qrow. You’re his friend. I think that makes you the best person to talk to him.”

Qrow held his gaze for as long as he was able and then looked away. He shook his head. “Gods, you really are good with people, aren’t you?”

“One of my many talents,” Clover said with a small smile. He reached up, caught one of Qrow’s hands briefly, and gave it a reassuring squeeze. It was a simple gesture, almost offhanded in its intimacy, but it helped anchor Qrow and brought him back to the stable ground between them that, for better or worse, had become far more comfortable far more quickly than it should have.

“On a better note,” Clover continued, “I think I might be able to drag myself out of this car. Do you mind helping me up to my place?”

Qrow shot him a sidelong look. “If that was supposed to be a come on, that was your worst attempt yet.”

Clover laughed softly. “My head is trying to turn itself inside out and combust. Cut me some slack.”

Qrow rolled his eyes just to be an ass and then nodded. Clover sat up slowly. After a couple of false starts, he managed to gain his footing well enough to stumble out into the night air. As soon as he tried to straighten, he swayed on his feet and threw out a hand to steady himself against the trunk of the car. Qrow followed quickly. Without preamble, he stepped close and pulled Clover’s arm over his shoulder, slipping his own arm around Clover’s waist to offer support. It was something he did without thinking about it, and definitely without considering how close it would bring them. The hard line of Clover’s body against his was hot in contrast to the freezing Atlas air but he couldn't exactly take it back now. 

“Come on, lucky charm,” he said.

Clover leaned against him heavily and they moved away from the car. When they stepped into the light pooling through the glass doors, Clover flinched and half-turned his face into Qrow’s shoulder.

“I might have to close my eyes when we get inside,” he said. “Don’t run me into a wall.”

Qrow adjusted his hold on Clover’s wrist and smirked. “No promises. I run myself into them sometimes. Not as much as windows, though.”

“Windows?”

“Long story. Maybe I’ll tell you sometime.”

Clover hummed. “I’m looking forward to it.”

~*~*~*~*~

The trip up to Clover’s apartment was mostly without incident, except for a stubbed toe getting off the elevator. While Qrow fiddled with the keypad at his door, Clover slumped up against the wall in the hallway and tried to ward off the vertigo and nausea slamming against his body in waves. He maintained a pattern of deep breaths in through his nose, and out through his mouth -- in and out. The exercise normally worked to clear his mind, but in this case, every inhalation also brought with it the subtle, lingering smell of mint and sandalwood soap and something else distinctly Qrow, which had been in Clover’s head since Qrow had climbed into the car with him. Thinking straight had been a little difficult ever since, but when was that not the case with Qrow around?

After a muttered curse, the locking mechanism clicked out of place -- a tiny sound that felt like someone had shot a nail into Clover’s head -- and the door slid open. A moment later, Qrow was there again, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him close to help him into the blessedly dark, cool interior of his apartment.

They stumbled through the darkness together. In a show of understanding that didn’t surprise Clover in the slightest, Qrow left the door open and let the dim light from the hallway filter in just enough to trace the vague outlines of his living room: couch, armchair, bookcases, coffee table. When they cleared the threshold, Qrow paused.

“Where do you want…?”

Clover threw his hand out towards the couch. “Here is fine.”

As much as Qrow’s ministrations in the car had helped, the trip through the brightly lit lobby and up the elevator with its grating chimes had brought the migraine back full force. He had only called in sick once in the last five years -- the drilling headaches he had suffered as a kid had become more spaced out as he had gotten older -- but he knew the signs well enough to know that he did not want to be in his room with its east-facing windows come morning.

Qrow kept a firm hold on his waist and led him further into the room, guiding him around the furniture. Clover leaned into him and didn’t bother mentioning that he hadn’t rearranged this place since he had moved in almost a decade ago. He could probably navigate it in his sleep without knocking so much as a coaster out of place. In fact, he had done as much once, or close enough. High off his ass on pain medication after one of the only near-death work experiences he had ever had, Clover had no memory of the three or four days following his release from the hospital. Apparently, his sensitivity to the drug had been rare. The first lucid recollection he had was his team coming to check on him, only for Elm to wonder aloud how the hell he could be high and neat at the same time.

The memory made him laugh and he practically felt Qrow’s gaze shift to him in the darkness.

“Going loopy on me, lucky charm?” he asked.

“Just thinking something completely unrelated.”

“Uh… okay then,” Qrow said, sounding slightly amused. “Anything you want to share?”

Clover’s knees bumped the edge of the couch and he reached down for it, stretching out across the cushions and rolling over onto his back. He grinned up at Qrow. “Long story. Maybe I’ll tell you sometime.”

Qrow snorted softly. “Yeah, sure. You have any meds I can get you?”

Clover waved towards the hallway. “Bathroom, top left drawer.”

Qrow gave a single nod and then he was gone, practically melting into the deep shadows of the hallway. Clover shifted into a position that wasn’t completely agonizing, settling his head on a soft patchwork pillow that had all its seams on the inside. Then he concentrated for a moment, curious.

Nothing. Qrow didn’t make a sound when he moved. The only thing that alerted him to the fact that Qrow had reached the bathroom was the light flicking on and then the quiet glide of the vanity drawer being pulled open. And yet, Clover could still  _ feel  _ him there. It was a little strange. He had been in the odd relationship here and there over the years, but never had he been so aware of another person’s presence. If he woke up blindfolded in a pitch-dark room with gauze shoved in his ears and nose, he thought he might still be able to feel Qrow if he were close enough. What that meant was something he hadn’t worked out yet, but he was more than willing to let that answer come to him if it decided to come at all.

The light in the hall went out and he felt Qrow move: out of the bathroom, back down the hall, and past him to the small open kitchen across the room. A cabinet door opened and swiftly closed, followed by another, followed by the tap turning on and then back off.

Clover opened his eyes as Qrow approached the couch and carefully sat on the edge of the coffee table, his body tense as if he expected it to break underneath him. Propping himself up on an elbow, Clover accepted the meds and washed them down with the water before handing the glass back to Qrow, not quite trusting himself to set it gracefully on the table.

“Thank you,” he said.

“Sure.” Qrow set the glass on one of the coasters beside him and slid it across the table a few inches. He stared at it a moment, made a small sound of amusement in the back of his throat, then glanced at Clover again. 

“Do you want a change of clothes?” he asked.

Clover smiled ruefully. “If I try to get undressed right now, it will be the most embarrassing thing I’ve ever done.”

“Really?” Qrow’s expression was difficult to make out, backlit as he was with the pale reddish night light filtering in from the hallway, but he sounded almost… pleased with that thought. Brat.

“No,” Clover admitted. “But I’ll be fine in these. Although…”

When he didn’t go on, because he realized how profoundly weird and awkward his next request was, Qrow heaved a heavy sigh and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. 

“Spit it out, lucky charm.”

Clover grimaced. “Do you mind helping me with my shoes?”

A soft snort answered him, but a moment later he felt Qrow pluck at the laces of his boots, and then a gentle hand wrapped around his calf while he worked one off and then the other. They hit the floor one at a time with muffled thumps.

“Better?” Qrow asked.

“Much,” Clover said, wiggling his toes. “Thank you.”

Qrow nodded and his gaze drifted back to the half-filled glass of water. 

Clover half expected him to get up and leave right away -- Qrow was always a bit difficult to get alone unless they were stuck in some confined space -- but something about him was off tonight. Clover hadn’t been able to focus on it much in the car but now, finally as comfortable as he could get under the circumstances, and with all of Qrow’s deflective maneuvers spent, it was easier to see. Something fitful had a hold of him tonight, sharp and hard-edged like the currents beneath an ice-encrusted river, barely contained and all the more dangerous because of that. 

Before Clover could determine more, Qrow abruptly shook himself. He scrubbed his hands along his thighs and pulled in a deep breath. His eyes flitted back to Clover again, then to the bookcase, the hallway, the glass of water, his own fingers. It was like watching a bird hop from branch to branch looking for one stable enough to land on.

“Right. Well. You’re fine?” Qrow asked but didn’t wait for an answer. “I guess I should… er…”

“Do you want to stay?”

The question was out before Clover could think better of it. Qrow froze, rigid, and stared down at him from the mask of shadows surrounding his face. 

Clover didn’t backpedal. He found that he didn’t want to and wouldn’t have even if it had been an option. He wasn’t entirely certain why Qrow looked and felt like he wanted to crawl out of his own skin. It could have been his brush with alcohol tonight, or the stress of being in a crowded mansion for however brief a time, or any number of other anxieties that probably thrummed through his veins on a daily basis. The life of a huntsman was hardly a luxurious one and Qrow’s had been rougher than most. But at the moment, it didn’t really matter  _ why.  _ All he knew was that he didn’t want Qrow to go, and he had a sneaking suspicion that Qrow didn’t want to be alone either.

“Okay.” Qrow’s answer slid into the air between them like a question, finely-spun and fragile.

Clover smiled. “Okay.”

Qrow stared at him a moment longer and then stood, toed off his shoes, and retreated to shut and lock the door. When he returned, Clover shifted back to give him space on the edge of the couch, but Qrow’s hand on his shoulder stopped him.

“Don’t worry about it. I can squeeze in behind you.”

“You don’t have to,” Clover said. In the short time he had known him, Qrow did not seem like a man who would appreciate feeling trapped. But another nudge against his back silenced him.

“My sister used to throw up when she had migraines,” Qrow said. “Can’t be too safe.”

“I don’t usually have that problem.”

“Humor me.”

Slowly, Clover nodded and Qrow very carefully crawled over him, settling in against his back, his legs curled to fit into the bend of Clover’s knees. The couch was deeper than most but it still hadn’t been built for two fully grown men to lie down next to one another. Not without touching, at any rate. Qrow was close enough that his breath tickled the back of Clover’s neck. Clover could feel him along the length of his body, the contact feather-light, and a little tense.

Tucking an arm beneath his head, Clover turned to lie completely on his side, giving Qrow as much space as he could. 

“Good night, Qrow.”

“Night, lucky charm.”

It was easier than Clover thought it would be to let sleep take him.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Clover woke with a start. Old instincts from a different life alerted him to something being wrong before he was even fully aware of his surroundings, and for a brief, painful second, his fingers flexed around a weapon that wasn’t there. He willed some of the tension out of his body and glanced at the soft glow of the wall clock: 4:13 a.m. Too early for anyone to be knocking on his door; too early even for the cleaning crews to be out in the corridors. The migraine had eased for the most part, too, the worst of the pain lingering only around the edges, so that hadn’t been the thing to wake him either. 

A soft muffled whimper came from behind him. Clover carefully rolled over to his other side and squinted through the dim lighting to see Qrow better. His expression was pained and his hands were clenched around his stomach, body twitching. Clover lightly brushed his fingers across Qrow’s forehead, not at all surprised to feel the clammy dampness of sweat on his skin. Whatever had him trapped must have been bad, which meant if Clover tried to forcibly wake him, he was probably liable to find an arm across his throat. He pushed Qrow’s hair off his face and carded his fingers gently back through it.

“Qrow?” He kept his voice soft but hopefully loud enough to just breakthrough. 

He spent ten minutes stroking Qrow’s hair and talking to him, making sure not to crowd him too much. When Qrow woke it was with a violent snap, his breaths sharp and uneven. His eyes darted around in the darkness, his entire body tense before his gaze finally settled on Clover. Then he collapsed in on himself.

“Sorry.” His voice grated on its way out.

“You don’t have to apologize,” Clover said. He wasn’t sure whether Qrow wanted to be touched so he pulled his hand back and tried to give him as much space as the couch would allow. “Are you okay?”

Qrow didn’t answer right away. His body shuddered and he pulled in air as if he were oxygen-starved. When he finally spoke, his voice was rougher than before, almost jagged. “You don’t have something to drink in here, do you?”

“No.” Clover kept his voice as even as he could. Qrow wasn’t asking for a glass of water and they both knew it. “I keep my room dry.”

Another shudder wracked Qrow’s body. He nodded, though it was difficult to tell whether Clover’s answer had come as a relief or had caused him even more anguish. “Good. That’s… good.”

“That’s why you put yourself on the inside,” he said in sudden realization. The jitters from earlier, the way Qrow’s hands shook now even with his arms wrapped tight around his middle and his fingers twisted into his shirt. It all clicked into place.

Qrow let out a broken sound that was perhaps supposed to be a laugh. “I thought having to crawl over you might be enough of a threat to my dignity to keep me in check.”

“And?”

“It almost isn’t.”

Clover lifted his hand again, stopped just short of Qrow’s shoulder. “Is it okay if I…?”

Qrow shot a swift glance at Clover, at his hand, and then he nodded, a desperate sound catching in the back of his throat. Clover didn’t wait for further confirmation. He wrapped an arm around him, awkwardly at first, but Qrow shifted into him almost immediately, pressing his face into Clover’s chest. He pulled Qrow close, running a hand up his back, feeling the tiny tremors going through his muscles.

“What do you need?” he asked.

Qrow shivered and shook his head. “I don’t know. Just… get me to think about something else.”

“Any requests? I can think of a few different ways to do that.”

Qrow’s laugh was another ragged thing. “Sure. If I weren’t a wreck and your head wasn’t killing you.”

Clover’s lips twitched towards a smile. Not exactly what he had meant, and not an idea he would even entertain in Qrow’s condition. Clover wanted him—he didn’t see the point in being secretive about it—but if he ever did get that chance, he didn’t want it to be out of some desperate need on Qrow’s part to be distracted. That didn’t mean he couldn’t tease him a little, though.

“I’m feeling better,” he said casually. “And for the record, I’ve been told my head is wonderful.”

Qrow burst out laughing. Threadbare, a little startled, but genuine.

“That’s the worst joke I’ve ever heard,” he grumbled, his voice slightly muffled in Clover’s shirt.

“Oh come on, it couldn’t have been that bad. It did its job, didn’t it?”

“More because it came out of your mouth than anything, I think.”

“I could shock you with what comes out of my mouth.”

Qrow pulled back to give him a flat look. Clover scrunched his nose and nodded. “Okay, yeah, that one was bad.”

Qrow snorted and pressed back against him. “Master of refinement, you are.”

Clover chuckled warmly and rubbed circles against Qrow’s shoulder with his thumb. Some of the tightness there was already starting to diminish. “Would you prefer more intrigue? It’s never been my strong suit but I can give it a shot.”

Qrow didn’t answer at first. After a moment, he shook his head. “No. I like that you’re direct.”

“Well okay, then. That makes things easy.” And oh, was this easy. Ridiculously, terrifyingly, breathtakingly easy.

He ran his hands up and down Qrow’s back, absently noting the fact that he was all hard, lean muscle. Little by little, Qrow’s body released like a spring slowly uncoiling. He sank into Clover, uncurled one of his arms from his stomach, and wrapped it loosely around Clover’s waist, testing, experimenting. Clover shifted a little to give him more space and Qrow moved with him, squirming until his head rested on Clover’s shoulder.

“Better?” he asked.

“A little.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Just a nightmare. Nothing special.”

A dozen different responses fired through his brain at that, but he knew Qrow probably didn’t need a lecture on self-care at the moment. “Do you get them a lot?”

A beat passed, and then Qrow said, “When I’m sober, yeah.”

“How long has it been?”

“The sobriety thing?” 

Clover nodded.

“Since I got here.”

“What about before that?”

“Don’t remember, honestly. A long time.” Qrow shifted, repositioning so that his nose was close to pressing into the side of Clover’s neck, his arm sliding a little more fully around him. “Sorry I woke you up.”

“Don’t be. Do you need anything? Some water or…?”

Qrow shook his head. “Right now, I need you to not let me off this couch. It’s not your job and I shouldn’t be asking but just… stay. Please.”

“ _ All _ you have to do is ask. I’m not going anywhere.”

Qrow pressed closer to him. After a while, the tremors ceased and Qrow’s breathing evened out so much that Clover wondered if he hadn’t drifted back to sleep. He turned his face into Qrow’s hair and breathed him in, more than willing to doze for another hour or so before he would have to get up. 

Qrow’s hand tightening in his shirt was the only warning he got.

“I’m a really bad idea, Clover.”

Clover didn’t move, didn’t speak for a moment. He let the weight in those words, the anguish in Qrow’s voice, sink in.

“What do you mean?”

“I left the party tonight because I almost relapsed. A waiter offered me a drink and every part of me wanted to take it. If Ruby and Yang hadn’t been there…”

“Ruby and Yang didn’t turn down the drink, Qrow. You did.”

But Qrow shook his head, unable or unwilling to hear. “You have no idea what I did to them. What I almost…”

Clover hesitated. How long had it had been since Qrow had allowed himself to lean on anyone? Had he ever? Clover didn’t know the full details of his work for Ozpin, but he knew enough to guess that Qrow had gone a long time without any support whatsoever. Maybe so long that he had forgotten what it felt like to have it, even forgotten that he deserved it.

“You can tell me if you want to.”

They sat in silence for a long time. Qrow’s hand clenched and unclenched against Clover’s side as if he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to pull Clover closer or push him away. 

“Do you know what an Apathy is?”

“A Grimm? I’ve heard of it.”

Qrow nodded. “It’s different from the others. Gets inside your head. Makes you want to give up until even breathing feels like too much effort. The kids and I ran into a nest of them on the way here. I didn’t even realize anything was  _ wrong _ . If it hadn’t been for Ruby…” He trailed off and shivered. “Afterward, I tried to tell myself that it was the Grimm, that I wasn’t thinking straight. But the truth is, a big part of me wanted to drink myself into a blackout and never wake up a long time before we got to that house. It still does. It’s smaller now but it’s still there and I can’t…”

Clover tightened his arms around him again, holding him close. He didn’t say anything, just let Qrow breathe and work through his thoughts, running fingers through his hair.

“I’m a weight.”

That sentence hung for a long time, dangling in the air between them. Clover kept him close and  Qrow made no move to extract himself. He brushed his lips across his dark hair, barely enough to be felt probably, and then he loosened his hold enough to cup Qrow’s jaw and bring his face up.

“That is unmitigated bullshit.”

Qrow’s eyes snapped to him, wide with shock and maybe a little indignance. Good. 

Clover went on before he could argue.

“I realize that we still don’t know each other very well and I have no idea what you’ve been through, but whatever battle you’ve been fighting,” he paused and touched a finger to Qrow’s temple, brushing some of the hair out of his eyes. “Whatever battle you’re still fighting in here, it does not make you a burden. And it sure as hell doesn’t make you weak. You’re here, Qrow. I know that may not feel like much but trust me, it counts for a lot more than you think it does.”

Qrow’s expression cracked and he squeezed his eyes shut, the muscles in his throat working.

Clover took the gamble and went the rest of the way, resting his hand against Qrow’s cheek. “As for whether this is a good idea or not, I’m willing to figure that out together if you are. For the record, I don’t believe that you could ever be a mistake.”

Letting out a choked sound that might have been a sob or a laugh, Qrow buried his face in Clover’s shoulder. Clover wasn’t sure whether he cried, but hot breaths hitched against his skin and it took several long minutes for Qrow to get himself back under control, fingers twisting into the hem of Clover’s shirt.

“Are you always so damned sure of everything?” Qrow asked.

Clover breathed out a soft laugh. “Not even remotely. But I’m pretty sure I want to try this.” 

“And what exactly is this?”

“Do we need a label for it?”

“If you’d asked me that six months ago, I’d have said no, but now…”

“You need something certain?”

Qrow sighed. “I need fewer things that are  _ uncertain.  _ Need something… solid.”

“Solid,” Clover repeated, then nodded. “I think I can give you something solid.”

Qrow groaned low and long into his shoulder and jabbed him in the ribs. “Seriously?”

Clover laughed. “I meant that in the least suggestive way possible. You did that one to yourself.”

“Pretty sure that’s anatomically impossible, but whatever.”

Clover snorted. “Now who’s making bad jokes?”

Qrow only shook his head but Clover felt his shoulders shaking in silent laughter, finally releasing all the tension that he clung to like it was the only thing keeping him together sometimes. 

“Clover?”

“Hm?”

“I don’t really know what the hell I’m doing, here.”

Clover smiled and turned to brush his lips over Qrow’s temple. “Neither do I, if I’m being honest.”

“Well that’s… reassuring,” Qrow said with an amused grunt. “Blind leading the blind never led to anything bad.”

“What if we feel our way together?”

“Have something in mind?”

“The same way you build anything solid. One brick at a time. I like being around you,” Clover said. “And I think we both know that I’m stupidly attracted to you. There are two solid bricks to start with right there.”

Qrow pulled back and looked up at him. His eyes caught a bit of the reddish glow from the hall. “Back at you, lucky charm.”

Clover grinned. “Well, now we have four bricks. Sounds like a pretty good start, if you ask me."

"Feel like adding one more?"

Qrow slid his hand up and curled his long fingers around the back of Clover’s neck, more a question than a demand. As if he even had to ask. Clover leaned into him until he felt warm, soft lips press against his own. 

Qrow kissed with the same caution he seemed to approach everything as if he were afraid things might dissolve if he used too much pressure, but Clover caught fire with it. He was acutely, almost surreally aware of Qrow’s heat against him, of the way his hand slotted perfectly around Qrow’s waist, of the light brushes of lips and noses and cheeks. 

When Qrow pulled back, Clover followed him on instinct, pressing their foreheads together just to keep feeling him there. 

He sighed. "That was an excellent addition. Maybe even the keystone of… whatever we're building."

Qrow’s mouth curled up into a grin. "Keep it up with the bricklaying analogy and I'll take a sledgehammer to it."

Clover chuckled and then slid his fingers into Qrow’s hair and pressed another kiss to his mouth, this one firm and certain and solid. 


End file.
